"Quite so," said the agent.
"I should like to ask two more questions," I said. "Are the drains in good order?"
"The drains," replied the agent, "are perfection."
"And is it damp?"
"It is as dry," replied the agent, "as a bone."
Some further conversation ensued, in which, however, I took no part, leaving the management to my wife, who had evidently set her heart upon moving to No. 79 Lamb's Terrace. The agent handed her the keys with a bow and a smile, and we left his office.
CHAPTER III.
[AN OLD FRIEND UNEXPECTEDLY PRESENTS HIMSELF.]
During the interview my attention had been attracted several times to a peculiar incident. At the extreme end of Mr. Gascoigne's office, close against the wall, was a high desk, with an old-fashioned railing around it, the back of the desk being toward me. When we entered the office no person was visible behind the desk, and no sounds of it being occupied reached my ears; but, happening once to look undesignedly in that direction, I saw a gray head raised above the railings, the owner of which was regarding me, I thought, with a certain eagerness and curiosity. The moment I looked at the head, which I inferred was attached to the body of a clerk in the service of Mr. Gascoigne, it disappeared, and I paid no attention to it. But presently, turning again, I saw it bob up and as quickly bob down; and as this was repeated five or six times during the interview, it made me, in turn, curious to learn the reason of the proceedings. Finally, upon my leaving the office, the head bobbed up and remained above the desk, seemingly following my departure with increasing eagerness.
"My dear," said my wife, as we walked along the street--very slowly, because of the weary day we had had--"at last we have found what we have been searching for so long."